Page 63 of In Frame
“Impressive.” Sam picked up another tart. They were fantastic. He’d have to get up early and find the hotel’s gym for a workout. He didn’t even care.
“As are you, you understand.” Colby regarded the grilled cheese, visibly approved, slid it onto a plate. Jason sliced it, making stretchy cheese paradise happen, and then put it in front of Sam, which made every atom of Sam’s body quiver with the desire to consume it on the spot and not wait for his hosts.
Colby paused, second sandwich begun. His eyes were merry, but serious under that. “Leo doesn’t generally ask for help. Not when it’s important. As I’m sure you’re aware. So for him to ask…he cares for you very deeply, you know. Because hedoescare, so very very deeply, about people. He has a hugeheart, and it’s more lonely than he lets on, and we want him to be happy.”
That wasn’t a warning, or at least not given as one. It was a simple statement of fact: Colby—and Jason—cared about Leo’s happiness, and wanted to be sure that Sam knew how important this was.
The simplicity of this statement made it more powerful than any more threatening phrasing would’ve been. It plunged through all Sam’s defenses like an arrow, delivered with a spatula in one hand and the scents of toasted sourdough and molten cheeses in the air.
He cleared his throat. “I care about him. Very much.”
“Of course you do,” Colby said, as if that was never in doubt, and went back to kitchen wizardry.
“He’s so…he’s the most colorful person I’ve ever met. I mean full of color. Like stories. And he’s always so…warm. Giving himself. All of him. Even when he knows people take it as a joke.Especiallywhen people think he’s just making jokes. I never want him to feel lonely.” He met Colby’s eyes, and Jason’s, in turn. “I want to make him happy.”
“Oh, good,” Jason said, “we’re all agreed on that, then,” and fed Colby half of a cupcake, this one blueberries and cream, and then ate the other half in one bite.
Sunshine spilled through the kitchen window, and sizzles echoed from the stove, and book-boxes watched them indulgently from piles. The afternoon, the future, shaped itself in concurrence and gold, in tarts and cupcakes, in coffee and shared pleasures.
Agreement, Sam repeated silently. Himself, and Colby Kent, and Jason Mirelli. All together. Here, on Leo’s side.
He still couldn’t quite believe it all was real, but if it was, it was everything: hope and a future and love, because he did love Leo, and Leo’s friends loved Leo, and so maybe they were Sam’sfriends now too. Maybe this could all be true.
Maybe there was a universe in which Sam Hernandez-Blake, freelance photographer, fell in love with Leo Whyte and was loved in return, and could eat homemade tea sandwiches while sitting in Colby Kent and Jason Mirelli’s kitchen. And Colby and Jason had been pleased with his first few snapshots of them.
Maybe, he thought. Maybe. And something fluttered in his chest: lifting, like wings, like hope.
He pulled out his phone. Took a quick picture of the feast spread out across the countertop, sent it to Leo.You were right about the food. It’s like a celebratory banquet over here.
He didn’t expect a quick response, since he knew Leo was busy—with a momentous announcement, needing space, needing to talk to parents—but got one almost immediately.Unfair of you all, having strawberry tarts without me. Unjust. Send me one. Say hello to our lovebirds for me.
I’ll see what I can do about saving you some. How’s it going?Jason and Colby had become distracted by kissing again, along with some sort of discussion about Colby needing to eat more than a bite or two out of Jason’s sandwich, if not a whole one of his own.
Excellent. We’re escaping a sinking island with magical artifacts at the moment. Also I told them. Mum and Dad want to cook for you and take you to the opera. Warning you now. Details later.
Glad it went well. Tell me about it tonight?
Leo paused before answering. Sam wondered whether that was surprise at someone hearing the relief under the cooking and opera, or whether Leo had just been distracted by a tabletop game. After a few long secondsI will. I swear, popped up. Plus a heart. A pink one.
Sam looked at the heart, thought about messages andflippancy and loneliness and buried emotions, and answered,How’d you know?
?
My heart. Yours. You got it. Cheesy? Maybe, yeah. But Leo, he thought, would like cheesy. And honest.
Leo paused again, just long enough for Sam to second-guess his own instincts. And then a picture turned up. Leo. Sitting at a cozy table, backdrop indistinctly homey and colorful. Laughing, happy, his upward swoop of blond hair just a little rumpled, eyes as fluttery as Sam’s chest felt. Holding up both hands: forming a heart. The message that arrived after saidSorry it’s a bit out of focus, Mum took it!
It’s perfect. Thanks.
You are, Leo answered.And your heart. Which is mine now. Insert evil laughter here. Oops, my turn! I’ll call you when I’m home.
Sam, after some consideration, replied with a gif. Of Leo. In full evil space wizard costume. Waving a melodramatic staff, with the devastating smirk that’d launched the fandom into the stratosphere.
Leo sent back,My wish is your command, minion.
Quoting yourself, or was that an idea for later?
Maybe both!Plus a winking face. Plus one more heart. Sam figured that was more or less a sign-off, and he didn’t want to keep Leo from a family game night; he set his phone down and looked up.
